Chapter 16
Wes
My sigh of relief from having Isla’s lips on mine reverberates through my body, but at the same time that tension breaks, it gathers in other parts of me.
She tastes like cherries and something I can’t identify, a taste that belongs distinctly to her and that I know I’ll never get enough of.
Her soft lips move against mine, throttling my heart rate into overdrive.
The heat in my body dials up to unfathomable levels, every molecule of my being coming alive and screaming for more of her.
I never let my lips leave hers as my hand slips into her jean shorts again, still open from when we started fooling around in the hallway. My fingers dance against her clit, and Isla’s hips surge forward while a cry slips from her mouth.
“Don’t tease me,” she manages to say through another moan when my hand slides down, one finger slipping into her pussy. “I can’t take…anymore. I need—”
My lips kiss down her neck, and she shivers when I suck lightly near her collarbone.
“Give me your palm.” Isla’s hand lands on mine, pushing me deeper into her shorts, until my entire palm rests against her pussy. Fuck me. I push the heel of my hand against her clit, rocking into her, as my fingers slide in and out.
She lets out a frustrated sigh. “It’s not enough. Wes—”
“What do you want from me, Isla?”
She blinks at me. “Anything I want?”
“Anything you want,” I confirm.
The response should shock me. It should shock her. After weeks of bickering, I’m putting myself into her hands, and she’s trusting me to take care of her. But there’s also an inevitability to this moment, that at some point the energy between us would spark to life and we’d need to expend it.
“Sit down.”
I don’t hesitate, settling onto the couch and spreading my arms across the back while I wait for her to make a move.
In one fluid motion, Isla strides towards me, places her hands on my arm for balance, and sinks until each leg brackets my hips.
She hovers over my lap, close enough that all I breathe is warm cinnamon while she traces one hand over my face.
The sight of her like this undoes me.
“Isla.” A desperate, breathy plea for her to put me out of my misery.
She leans in until her lips graze my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “Wes,” she sighs while her hand slides down the top of my chest, exposed through my partially unbuttoned shirt. My hips buck of their own volition, needing her hands on me.
Isla’s hand continues its movement down my body until she touches me through my jeans. I hiss through my teeth and try to focus on anything other than her body perched over mine. She’s in control, with full ability to bend me to her will.
“Anything I want,” she whispers in my ear, then pulls back to stare me in the eyes. She lets her sweater slowly slip from her shoulders before removing it fully and tossing it to the side.
I open my mouth to say something, anything that will persuade her to stop this torment, but her lips land on mine, emptying my mind of anything but the feel of her mouth.
She kisses me slowly, slipping her tongue past my lips briefly before pulling away.
I wonder if knowing that I’m unstitching at the seams, moments from coming apart, turns her on.
Isla sinks, bringing her center over my cock. She feels unreal even through my jeans.
“Fuuuuck,” I moan against her mouth, rapidly losing my control.
Stars explode behind my eyes as she begins to move, rocking herself against my hard length.
Unsurprisingly, her movements are graceful and controlled, a complete contrast to my rough thrusts against her.
We’re a give and take of movement, a slow tease of friction splintering me more with each contact, until I can’t take it any longer.
“Not sure why you're so grumpy when you're walking around with this”—her hips swivel, drawing a guttural groan from my throat—“inside your pants.”
“Because a fucking brat won't stop teasing me.”
“Guess you better teach me a lesson, huh, Wes?”
My hands grip her hips, drawing a gasp from her at the unexpected contact. Her pupils give away how turned on she is, how much she wants this despite her unaffected mask.
“This isn’t enough for you, is it?” I bring my face to her neck, pressing a kiss against the skin, lingering to give her a taste of her own medicine. “You need more, don’t you, Red?”
I shift her to the right until her left knee lands between my legs and she’s perched on my thigh. I rotate her hips forward, then back, slowly grinding her pussy against me.
“Why are you holding back?” I murmur, mesmerized by the way her face slackens into pleasure—lips parted, eyes closed, breath heavy.
“I…like,” she moans, gasps of breath punctuating each word, “getting so turned on that I can’t stand it. My orgasms get so intense.”
Well, fuck.
“Let me help you.” I draw out the words while my hands slide beneath her shirt and bra, fingertips brushing against her soft breasts before cupping them in my palms. I gently graze one fingertip over her hard nipple, a horizontal sway against her skin that has her panting within seconds.
Her hands slide into my hair, pulling at the tips at the base of my neck as her moans grow louder until they crescendo into my name. I want her to make that sound a hundred more times until I’ve memorized it.
I tilt her face until her gaze meets mine. My finger runs along her bottom lip until she closes her mouth around it and sucks gently.
“Take over, Red. Show me how good I make you feel.”
Isla’s pussy lands on my thigh, and she surges forward to kiss me at the same time her hips move again, dragging her clit against my leg.
Her tongue slides into my mouth, tangling with mine, sparking every nerve ending at the base of my spine.
I unzip my jeans and grip my dick, needing the friction to alleviate this ache.
“That’s my girl,” I groan, roughly choking my cock while Isla thrusts against me, picking up speed as she gets closer to erupting. “Fuck, Isla, give in.”
She glances down at my lap, where my hand furiously moves against my cock.
There’s a gleam in her eye, a pull at the edges of her lips to find me in this state.
Isla grinds against my thigh until her body goes taut and she lets out a gasp.
She moans louder as her pussy pushes down harder against me.
“Holy shit,” I grunt as the sound of Isla’s orgasm tips me over the edge.
“That was…” she sighs as she collapses against my body, resting her head against my chest. Her words trail off like she can’t bear to give me a compliment. Her exhaustion, proof of how good I made it for her, will need to be enough.
I lift my hand to run my fingers through the strands of her hair. My other hand rests at the base of her spine, where sweat has gathered from the exertion of her movements.
I want her in every way possible—on my cock, in my mouth, threaded through my fingers, curled up against my chest in my fucking living room.
The thought—the want—terrifies me. Because I don’t have a shot with her.
Isla lifts off my chest until her gaze meets mine. Dammit, she’s so beautiful.
“This look suits you.” I push her sweaty hair off her forehead and tuck it behind her ear.
Her eyes narrow. “Me in your lap, out of breath?”
I huff out a laugh. “Yeah.” I trace my fingers against her cheek. “Flushed.” I smooth the skin beside her eyes. “Hazy-eyed.” Isla swallows hard, gaze locked on my face, as my fingers dance across her lips. “Swollen.”
“Wesley Davidson.” Her hands explore me, landing on my chest before shifting to my shoulders, my biceps, my forearms. “Are you flirting with me?”
“I make you come, and you still bust my balls.”
Isla shrugs, her face scrunching adorably. “It’s my charm.”
“Right. Charm.”
She shoves my shoulder. “Like you know anything about charm.”
“Managed to get you in my lap.”
She snorts and rolls off me, onto the couch. “I didn’t expect—”
“Yes, you did,” I cut her off. “You know I’ve been losing my mind over you, Red. And tonight…I couldn't stand the thought of another guy getting to touch you.”
I blame Isla for reducing my mind to mush, for removing my well-honed filter.
There’s no point in concealing the truth from her, especially not after she saw, heard, and felt my body’s reaction to her.
I also want this to happen again, and again, and again, for as long as it takes to work this infatuation out of my system.
It’s exposure therapy, gradually spending more time with her until I’m no longer triggered by her beauty or her smart mouth, until I can be around her without wanting to shove her against a wall and kiss her senseless.
Getting over this infatuation is my only option. Because Isla isn’t going to settle for me.
She drums a dark blue-painted fingernail against my forearm. “Only tonight?”
“No, not only tonight.”
“So, the next time I need—”
I turn my head until our gazes clash. “Come to me, Isla.”
Her lips slide into a half-smirk. “What if I get needy a lot, Wes?”
Fucking hell. The thought of her coming to me—and only me—to take care of her needs short-circuits my brain, but I fight to keep my expression neutral. “Don’t worry, Covington, I’ll manage.”
Isla bites her lip, hesitating before she finally says, “We should keep this to ourselves, right?” She fiddles with the ring on her right pointer finger, spinning it in circles. “It’s no one’s business what we do.”
“Probably best,” I agree, fighting the instinct to announce it to everyone. Stay the fuck away from her. She feels like mine, even though I know it’s the furthest thing from the truth.
I rise from the couch to zip up my fly and realize the denim is wet and sticky. I glance down at the damage, but even after I grab some tissues to blot at the mess, it’s so bad that I don’t know if I can escape this bar without anyone noticing. Isla stifles a laugh with her hand.
“You can have my sweater,” she offers with a mischievous glint in her eye.
“I’ll pass.”
She stands up, facing me. “You’re going to leave like that?”
“Worried I’ll upset your date?”
Isla rolls her eyes. “He’s not my date.”
“You walked in together.” I clench my teeth, my jaw tightening to the point of pain.
“Because he got here the same time as me.” She steps forward, reaching for my chin with one hand, an arrogant half-smile still in place. “I wondered how long your recovery time would be. Looks like you’re already back to your grumpy self. I need to try harder next time.”
My hand lands on hers, sliding it from my face and holding it in mine. “I think that next time you won’t have the energy to run your mouth. How’s that sound?”
“Don’t overpromise and underdeliver.”
“I never do.”
She pulls her sweater on, running her hands over her forearms. “We’ll see.”
I don’t want her to leave. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask her to come home with me, but I know better than to make a fool out of myself.
I’ve gotten more attached to another person than they were to me before and I promised myself I’d never make that mistake again.
And certainly not with Isla Covington, who’s only giving me the time of day because I’m her boss, her partner’s brother, and now, the man willing to fulfill her sexual needs.
Nothing more.